A lot of maybe's
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon asks himself a lot of questions, leaving lingering feelings. Warning: depiction of violence Written for the Short Affair Challenge on Live Journal which has a limited word count. Pre-Saga


Mission after mission Illya Kuryakin seemed to bear the brunt of mistreatment and injury instead of his partner.

It wasn't as though Napoleon wouldn't dive head first into the fray. Both of them did that without hesitation, but it was the Russian who suffered time and again.

.

The American sat beside his partner's hospital bed yet again, waiting from him to awaken.

The two of them had barely escaped by the skin of their teeth from a THRUSH torture chamber. Though in doing so they had successfully completed their assignment, but at what cost?

Napoleon's wrists were bandaged from being dangled in handcuffs hooked to a pipe running across the ceiling of their cell. He had a few bruises, but again it was Illya who got the worst of it.

Why that always happened, Napoleon had no idea.

Maybe it was just a case of the Kuryakin luck, which just seemed to be bad most of the time, while Napoleon was gifted with the Solo luck, and that was good time and again. Maybe it was a sort of yin and yang thing between the two of them? Light -dark, good luck-bad luck...

That was a lot of maybes.

Still, Illya was the one who had the mouth on him and would taunt their captors with his snide remarks. Of all times for his usually quiet friend to to speak up…

Granted, Solo zinged a few too, but they didn't have the venom that Illya's words had.

This time a Thrushman skilled at torture, was abusing the Russian in an attempt to force Napoleon to tell them where he'd hidden the plans he'd stolen They knew Kuryakin had no idea where they were as he'd been caught, while Solo escaped with the plans.

Napoleon eventually returned to retrieve his partner but was caught like a rookie in his attempted rescue.

Illya was stripped naked and Garrulax Colophus began to whip him with thin wooden switches across his back, buttocks and legs.

The Thrushman was famous for his style of torture that would often result in the victim being left alive, but maimed for life.

The purple welts rose on the Russian's pale skin with each blow and he flinched each time he was struck, but remained silent.

Illya grimaced, trying to keep from crying out and forced himself to concentrate on defining Pi in his head, in an effort to disconnect himself from the pain.

 _"Pi is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its... its diameter. Pi is a constant number, meaning... that-for-all- circles of any size, Pi will be the ... same."_

He hissed as he sucked in air through his clenched teeth as a ripped into by the switch.

" _The diameter of a circle... is the distance from edge to edge, measuring straight through the... center. The circumference-of-a-circle is the... distance around."_

As the beating worsened, he finally cried out, pleading to his partner.

"Do not tell them Napoleon, let him kill me."

That earned Illya a slap after slap to his face, splitting his lower lip before he passed out.

Colophus looked Napoleon straight in the eye as he gleefully grabbed Illya's genitals and brandishing a knife, threatened to cut them off.

He laughed, "First the family jewels, then his nose, followed by his ears and then his tongue! I remind you that his suffering is your fault Mr. Solo. Tell me where you've hidden my plans! Tell me now or I'll begin."

He held the knife closer to Illya, jabbing the tip into his flesh, sending a small trickle of blood down his inner thigh.

"All right, all right! I'll tell you. Just stop, please. Don't hurt him anymore!" Napoleon barked, his voice seemed nearly gone, or so that's what he wanted Garrulax to think.

"Tell me then, and I promise I will stop."

"Come closer. Can barely talk." This was a ruse to get him within striking distance. As he took those steps closer to Solo, Napoleon lashed out, kicking the Thrushie under his chin, sending his head whipping back; it was a fatal blow as it broke the man's neck.

That stopped the torture, but it still left the agents hanging by their wrists.

Napoleon grabbed the pipe from which the cuffs where draped over a hook that had been soldered to it. With a grunt, swinging his legs upward, he wrapped them round the pipe while he lifted the handcuffs from the hook. Lowering himself while hanging onto the pipe with his hands, he dropped to his feet.

The key to the cuffs was thankfully in the deadman's trouser pocket.

Quickly removing the cuffs he saw to Illya and freed him; the Russian's limp body falling into his arms. Napoleon gently lowered him to the floor, and though he hated like hell doing it, he slapped him in the face a few times to wake him up.

Kuryakin groaned as he came around.

"Napoleon, what happened?"

"Not enough time to tell. Let me help you get dressed so we can get the hell out of here."

He got Illya to his feet and one leg at a time, put on his trousers. Grabbing his suit jacket he draped it over his partner's shoulders as there was no way he'd be able to wear a shirt.

Illya slipped into his shoes; he and his partner were off with Solo hanging onto him, helping him to keep him on his feet.

They were free…

.

Napoleon looked at the raw welts on Illya's body as the man slept on his stomach until the Russian finally stirred. He'd been out for hours as a doctor had given him a sedative.

"Hey, it's okay. You're in a hospital pal. We're safe, and so are the plans. I'm sorry this happened to you," Napoleon reassured, with a hint of emotion in his voice.

"Not your fault...part of the job." Illya tried to push himself up on his hands but quickly changed his mind. His bandaged wrists were very painful.

"I don't think that's a good idea tovarisch."

"No kidding."

Napoleon dipped a white cloth into a bowl of cool water and after ringing it out, he dabbed Illya's back with it.

"It was a job well done by you my friend," Illya whispered.

"Was it?" Napoleon thought to himself."Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't?" Self doubt was a tough thing for a spy to deal with. It could get you killed or your partner.

He knew Illya was right, what happened was part of the job, but he couldn't help but let the guilt get to him. His friend and partner's misery end in the final analysis, was his fault.

Solo would continue to wrestle with those ambivalent feelings.

Illya would eventually try to convince him otherwise, but deep down the remorse would still be there, it would never really go away...

.

A/N Garrulax Colophus is a play on the genus Garrulax leucolophus, also known as the 'white-breasted laughing thrush.'


End file.
